


In Stitches

by Scruggzi



Series: The Kitfic Chronicles [3]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Implied/Referenced Blow Jobs, Just Add Kittens, Whumptober, whumpfree
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 23:17:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21126887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scruggzi/pseuds/Scruggzi
Summary: A lazy morning in bed is interrupted by the fiendish machinations of Cleopatra the kitten.A shamelessly fluffy response to the whumptober prompt 'stitches'





	In Stitches

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Allison_Wonderland](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allison_Wonderland/gifts).

> Thanks to Miss Ash for the beta read!
> 
> This is a little present for Allison_Wonderland as I know she's a fan of these kittens!

It had been a highly successful night; a stake-out at the docks followed by a thrilling foot chase as their suspect had attempted to make a break for it. After a brief scramble up the side of a warehouse to cut him off, Phryne had managed to chase the man right into Jack’s waiting arms and they had finally got him behind bars just as the sun was coming up. Tired as they both were, the adrenaline and excitement had been enough to ensure that sleep was the last thing on their mind when they finally tumbled into bed.

Today Jack had the day off, and Phryne had been looking forward to a leisurely morning snoozing under satin sheets with a naked inspector at her side.

Unfortunately, someone else had other ideas.

“Mrrrp.” A sleek black paw patted experimentally at her head; its owner apparently scandalised that anyone’s attention could ever be anywhere but on her.

“Fuck off, cat!” Phryne grumbled from beneath a tangle of bedsheets, unamused.

“MrrrRRrrp.” Cleopatra replied indignantly.

There was a low chuckle from the other side of the bed as Jack woke to the sound of their argument.

“I appreciate that your word is law, oh, Queen of the Nile,” he sat up and reached over to tickle the little cat under her chin, “but I am certain that Mr Butler has already fed you this morning.”

Realising that she was getting nothing out of Phryne, who had expended all the energy she had a mind to by rolling over to snuggle herself into Jack’s side, Cleopatra decided to switch targets. Even after more than eight months since he had first brought them to Wardlow, Jack was still a terrible soft touch when it came to the two kittens – now almost fully grown and more than fully packed with mischief.

Turning her back on Phryne with a pointed meep of disgust, Cleopatra scrambled over her, taking care to tread in her ear – earning another mumbled expletive – and took up a position on Jack’s chest. Now awake, he was at least good for attention if not for a second breakfast. She purred loudly and stretched out to bump her nose affectionately against his face, earning herself more chin scratches and a comfy spot to curl up in and be petted.

“How did she even get in here?” Phryne asked, blinking sleepy eyes open and absent-mindedly joining Jack in stroking the little cat behind the ears. “The door’s still shut and I’m sure she wasn’t in here last night.”

“She’s taken a leaf out of your book, Miss Fisher, and learned how to scale the building. I saw her climbing up that big fig tree by the window the other day.”

He smiled fondly, it was not the first time he had noticed a certain similarity of personality between the love of his life and the lost little kitten he had found dumped at the station the previous Christmas. Although, he supposed Phryne had always had a certain feline quality to her.

“I knew she had the makings of a talented cat burglar.” Phryne smiled proudly at her charge, booping her tiny pink nose in appreciation of her talents. Cleopatra sniffed at Phryne’s finger, licked it, decided it was probably not chicken, and began to wash her ears.

Phryne rearranged herself under the covers so she could entertain herself by tracing little patterns across the flat plane of Jack’s stomach, toying with the sharp V of muscle that pointed down towards his cock. It was not exactly a calculated move, well…perhaps a little, mostly, she just enjoyed the simple pleasure of contact.

The feel of his skin, the lingering smell of sex, perfume and pomade, even the lazy, contented purring of the cat, all combined to produce a warm, comfortable feeling of home. It was a kind of contentment she had never thought would appeal, had imagined that for her such things would at best grow stale and stagnant, at worst cloying and claustrophobic. Instead she felt light and free, so full of bone deep satisfaction she almost felt like purring herself.

Much as Jack knew he could be something of a soft touch when it came to a certain pair of kittens, he was beginning to think that Cleopatra was going to need evicting from the bed before long. The idea of those curious green eyes watching him whilst they were… romantically occupied. Well, the idea was deeply disturbing and didn’t bear thinking about. For the moment though, he was content to close his eyes, enjoy Phryne’s soft caresses and the feel of her skin as he stroked a hand along her naked back.

It was at this point, with both detectives sleepy and unaware, that Cleopatra noticed movement under the covers. Early games of ‘pounce on Jack’s feet’ had eventually been vetoed as Antony, who was well on the way to becoming an impressively sized tom, had managed to damage a set of silk sheets beyond repair. It appeared to Cleopatra that the game had been renewed, a large bulge was growing beneath the sheets a short way below her perch on Jack’s chest.

She tensed, body low and back legs raised, sharp eyes targeted on the unknown intruder. She wiggled her backside, tail pointed out for balance and…pounced.

Jack’s scream was not what anyone would call dignified. Cleopatra had not increased in size the way her companion had, but an unexpected 6lb blow to your manhood is never a picnic, especially not when it has claws.

Phryne sat up, startled fully awake and alarmed, and saw at once what had happened. She promptly dropped Cleopatra over the side of the bed – where she stalked off in a huff, furious at such unconscionable manhandling. Jack curled up in the foetal position, swearing bloody murder. Phryne burst out laughing.

“This is no laughing matter, Miss Fisher.” He groused, still sore but recovering a little from the initial shock.

“Oh, poor Jack. She didn’t bite you, did she?” she asked, wiping tears from her eyes and trying unsuccessfully to look supportive.

“No, but I’ve suddenly developed a newfound sympathy for those mice she keeps bringing in. I think at least one claw made it through the bedclothes,” he grumbled.

Phryne ducked under the covers to assess the damage and swiftly satisfied herself that the greatest injury had most likely been to Jack’s pride.

“Oh dear, Inspector.” She emerged from under the sheets, smirking at him. “I can see you’ve suffered a terrible injury. We may have to get Mac to sew it back on again. Certainly, you are going to need stitches.”

“I’m glad my humiliating defeat at the paws of a small kitten is a cause for amusement,” he muttered sarcastically.

“Oh, don’t sulk darling. Here, let me kiss it better.”

Disappearing once again under the covers, she promptly set about improving Jack’s morning.

Cleopatra, meanwhile, made her escape via the open window, slipping down into the garden where Antony was busy hunting fallen leaves. She greeted him nose to nose, then stalked off in search of something small and squeaky that she could murder. She was very fond of her new human family, and as they really didn’t seem able to hunt for themselves, she was sure they would appreciate a nice present.

There were plenty of mice to go around, after all.


End file.
